


you were rare (you were real)

by izukillme



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Amusement Parks, Angst, Awkward Dates, Awkwardness, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Grocery Shopping, Hurt No Comfort, Living Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Multi, Other, Shopping, Um. Kind of., University, in!! this!! house!! we!! celebrate!! rarepairs!!, rarepairs, sort-of dates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24176701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izukillme/pseuds/izukillme
Summary: A love letter to all the ships of KuroBasu that are sometimes left behind.
Relationships: Akashi Seijuurou/Aomine Daiki, Hyuuga Junpei/Izuki Shun, Izuki Shun/Takao Kazunari, Mitobe Rinnosuke/Murasakibara Atsushi, Miyaji Kiyoshi/Moriyama Yoshitaka
Comments: 22
Kudos: 20





	1. plunge (takaizu)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for seb!! hope u like it sweetie <3

It’s easy to lose himself in Kazunari. 

In fact, it’s _scary_ how easy it is to do so. Shun isn’t the kind of person to let himself go. He’s always calm, collected, careful - _guarded,_ is the real word - but with Kazunari, it’s so different. His neatly built walls all come down with just one smirk and some teasing words. He finds himself laughing for real, a sound that’s been bottled up for so long that it nearly hurts; he finds himself making puns with precise intent just to make Kazunari smile; he finds himself falling deeper and deeper everyday. 

Suffice it to say that Shun’s not particularly inclined towards that. And neither towards _actual_ falling, such as what they’re doing right now.

“Whose idea was this anyway?” he questions, meaning to be sarcastic, but the words are ripped out of his throat in a scream by the sudden drop and it ends up sounding more like a shout of terror. Which is bad. Shun doesn’t do terror, or any emotions in front of others, really.

“I recall you saying that we should come to the amusement park for a date!” Kazunari shouts back, and when Shun turns to look at him there’s nothing but exhilaration on his face. His mouth is stretched wide with joy, and his eyes are squeezed shut. 

He looks hilariously, awkwardly beautiful, and the sudden falling sensation that Shun feels might not be entirely because of the ride.

“Tell the me of the past that I’m definitely not _amused_ by his decision,” he shouts back, doing his best to drown this strange new branch of _emotion_ in his chest. Feelings don’t exist to Shun Izuki. That’s how he’s survived life thus far. But there’s a knowing look in Kazunari’s eyes even as he tips his head back and laughs at the pun, and somehow Shun feels _seen._

It’s not a new sentiment. There isn’t much that escapes either of their vision. They’re like two birds of prey when it comes to spotting things - ha - and Kazunari is especially adept at seeing when Shun’s trying to hide his feelings. 

He swallows and looks away from his boyfriend, knowing that even the best poker face in the world won’t be enough to hide from Kazunari’s discerning eye. The guy is frighteningly good at emotions - another way in which they differ. You could call Shun something along the lines of “emotionally constipated”. It’s a miracle that he had been the one to ask out Kazunari: they’re both surprised about it to _date_ _._ (That was good!)

When they tumble off the ride, Kazunari is still smiling like a maniac, and both their throats are raw with screaming for completely different reasons. Actually, that sudden burning in his voice box might not just be the shouting, Shun thinks, just before he doubles over and loses it all over the floor. 

He’s not embarrassed or - or _scared_ or anything, but… it feels weird, to lose control completely in front of someone else. But Kazunari isn’t judging; there’s a hand on the small of his back and another one holding back his hair, and a soft voice whispers in his ear only half-jokingly, “Don’t run off now. I got you.”

Shun understands exactly what Kazunari is saying and what he isn’t, and maybe he can’t relax fully yet but perhaps his shoulders are a little less drawn and he’s a little more free and he thinks he might be okay with falling if it’s for Kazunari. 

(No more roller coasters, though).


	2. puzzle pieces (aoaka)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [an](https://ao3.org/users/hybristophilica/pseuds/hybristophilica)!! enjoy~

His grandmother used to say that you'll always fit with the person intended for you. It's like a pair of puzzle pieces. You'll slot into each other just perfectly, no gaps and no mistakes. Like it's meant to be.

Daiki knows life doesn't work like that. Nothing is ever actually meant to be. Not nature, not objects and least of all people. The most broken, flawed things on this Earth will only serve to fuck each other up more. Even as a child, he doesn't believe this soulmate ideology (unlike Satsuki, who laps it right up), and his cynicism just gets harsher as he grows - at this point, Daiki's ready to call basketball his perfect match. He _does_ fit with it just fine; perhaps his grandmother wasn't so off about that puzzle pieces thing, just about the people thing. Humans are all rough around the edges, and Daiki is even more so. There can't be anyone out there for him; why would there be? 

Then he meets Akashi Seijuro and everything changes. 

Akashi is… strange. He's refined and perfect, like a prince, but his exterior hides something as rough and jagged as Daiki himself. Daiki imagines that he must feel like broken glass on the inside, and his words come out all chipped and cut up after passing through that mountain of shards on the inside. He's different and beautiful and shattered, and Daiki can't help but be drawn to him in all the ways that he shouldn't be.

Going to separate schools helps. Daiki can pretend Akashi doesn't exist, pretend that his feelings don't exist. He can drown himself in idols and gravure and act like he doesn't still feel something for a redhead in Kyoto, something awful and twisted by everything that happened last year but still pure and naive. But then… then life happens, and Akashi's _himself_ again, and Daiki doesn't know what to make of it. But he stays away anyway because he knows that playing with fire will just get you burned. 

It's after the events at the Winter Cup that they reconnect - well, connect is a better word, given that they'd never really interacted. Daiki doesn't know whether it's out of the distance that had always been there between them or out of the uncanny connection that neither will admit to being a little scared of. And it's not even on purpose; the old team had actually thought of meeting up for a few games, but no one had been free except Akashi and Daiki, and so he had agreed to meet his ex-captain for some basketball. A game is a game, and even if he can't play with Kagami and Kise, Akashi's still a great opponent.

Except they don't actually _do_ any playing. They meet up at the court and awkwardly shuffle around while some kids finish up their game, except they get so distracted trying to ignore each other in a not-weird way that by the time they realise it another three batches of people have come and gone and a fourth is occupying the court. Daiki supposes they're intimidating enough both alone and together (why does that word send chills up his spine?) to scare off the punks playing, but Akashi looks almost ill when he suggests it. So he proposes they wait it out at a nearby cafe instead, because his legs are starting to numb and prickle from standing so long, and Akashi agrees with a relieved little smile that does funny things to Daiki's stomach.

And now they're here, in this little place that's far too cosy and far too sweet-smelling for Daiki's liking, sitting at a table that could not be more clearly meant for a couple. There are people everywhere, holding hands and laughing and generally doing couple-y stuff. 

They order and eat something, Daiki couldn't tell you at this point what it was but there are hints of coffee in his mouth so he'll guess some overly sugary caffeinated drink. 

Then they talk.

It starts with a simple question, "How good are those Uncrowned Kings?" because it feels awkward as fuck just sitting here and Daiki figures that the best thing to talk about is basketball, right? The one thing they share?

Turns out, it isn't the only one. 

Daiki's question breaks an invisible dam. Akashi speaks about his teammates with measured words, but you can see the pride on his face when he talks about how well they play, how they have bonded with each other and how they are so _driven_ , so talented, how good a team it is. And Daiki - Daiki thinks he might be starting to _get_ that, because Sakurai and Wakamatsu are both like that and hell, maybe they're annoying but they love the sport. And in his own words, whoever likes basketball can't be so bad, can they? 

It devolves from there to other topics; they both disagree on everything, but that's what makes it work. Daiki likes sweets; Akashi leans to the spicy side. Daiki prefers light hair and short height; Akashi likes tall and dark-haired people. When it comes to Grey's Anatomy, Daiki is a hardcore shipper of Meredith and Derek; Akashi reveals with slight embarrassment that he prefers Derek and Addison, and Daiki can't help an affronted gasp. _Addison._ Why had he ever thought Akashi had good taste? 

By the time the conversation finally dies down, it's dark out - indeed, too dark to play basketball (well, Daiki's ready to play, but something in Akashi's eyes tells him that that was never the purpose of this meeting). They pay the bill and leave, Daiki happily exploiting Akashi's offer to take the tab. 

As they make their way back to the metro, a hand slips into Daiki's. It's nearly as large as his, calloused and knobbly, and it slips its fingers into the gaps between his, forming a loose hold. Daiki's heart thumps but he doesn't let go, just tightens the grip almost unconsciously. The knuckles of Akashi's hand stick out, and they dig into Daiki's palm. The fit isn't perfect, but it'll do.

It's like a pair of puzzle pieces, he realises as they step into the train still holding hands like a pair of preschoolers. Old, well-worn pieces that are a little broken around the edges with gaps in between, but still fit into each other. A little loose, a bit wobbly, and they'll have to be careful putting them together. It isn't perfect, but it _works_ just well enough _,_ and isn't that how life operates, too? 

Maybe Daiki's other puzzle piece _does_ exist after all. 


	3. kiss it better (morimiya)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [JauneRyouta](https://ao3.org/users/JauneRyouta/pseuds/JauneRyouta)!! hope u enjoy ❤️❤️

The first time Yoshitaka Moriyama falls in love is when he gets walloped in the head by a pineapple.

Yes, yes, he knows what you’re asking right now. Did the impact of that pineapple end up giving him mental damage? His husband will attest to that very firmly, while gripping a pineapple in his other hand in readiness to toss it at Moriyama’s head. But Moriyama will just smile and tilt his head like the sappy idiot he is, and he’ll tell the story like it’s some great romantic epic. In reality, it happens like this. 

Exams are just around the corner and Moriyama is drowning in the sheer pressure of it all. There’s calculus and algebra on one side and organic chemistry on another, there’s all the samurai of the Sengoku Period clamouring for their place in his head from the front and the landforms of the Osaka region trying to find space in the back. His eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of his head, and the fact that the cafe he usually studies is now buzzing with other high school seniors also studying for exams isn’t helping. 

Sighing, he slams his books closed. There’s still a few weeks to go, and he’s already finished studying all his material twice, so a bit of a break day won’t matter, right? He’s spent most of the morning and afternoon buried in a book anyway - he needs a coffee. (Seirin’s point guard got him addicted to the stuff and now he can’t stop. Oh well, at least it keeps him awake.)

Moriyama stretches in his seat and makes to get up, half-wishing Kasamatsu and the rest of the Kaijō third-years were here too. The study sessions with his friends are so much more fun, but they get barely anything done, which is why they’ve all elected to study separately and meet after the exams instead. 

He cracks his knuckles and rises fully, intending on heading straight to the counter when his eyes fall on a group nearest to the door. There are three heads, two dark-haired and one dirty blond, and they all seem to be arguing about something.

Well, the blond is arguing. The two dark-haired boys are trying to mediate judging by their flapping gestures, but the blond has a vein ticking on his forehead and - 

_ Wait.  _ Moriyama  _ knows  _ these people.

The dark-haired one with the buzzcut is Kimura, the power forward; the spiky-haired brunette is Ōtsubō, the center; and the blond is Miyaji, small forward. All players -  _ former _ players - of Shūtoku High, the school that Kaijō had ended up going down against in the third-place decider. Moriyama’s sure that if they’d had Kise they would have won. But it was still a close contest between the non-Miracle players of both teams - Kaijō and Shūtoku are both national-level schools, after all. 

Moriyama isn’t bitter, though. Not having Kise was already a deciding factor, but they had tried their best anyway, and hadn’t been  _ completely  _ decimated. He likes to think he put up a fair show against Midorima, as fair as one could do against that insanely talented shooter. 

That’s when it hits him. In the literal sense of the word.

Moriyama lets out a soft “oof” as he crumples to the ground, the pineapple having smashed straight into the left side of his face. His vision is blurry and he’s sure he’s seeing stars - there’s something wet sliding down his face. Pineapple juice or blood? He doesn’t know, doesn’t care enough to check. The world is a cacophony of sound and light; he can barely make out anything.

Then it starts to clear, and life blurs back into what it should be again. There's a face in front of him and a voice emanating from the same - he's still a bit shaken so identification is difficult.

"Are you alright?! Holy shit, do you have a concussion?! I'm so sorry, I never fucking meant to hurt you!" 

There's something dabbing at the left of his face then, and Moriyama blinks as he realises that this sweet stranger is actually mopping up his wound. (Never mind that he was the one that caused it in the first place.) 

His vision clears fully; the face comes into proper view, and Moriyama instantly recognises it. It's Miyaji…

Who, now that he's getting a proper look at him, happens to be stunningly attractive. 

Moriyama collects himself a little, trying to save some face. It's hard when you've just gotten hit by a pineapple, but he's nothing if not perseverent. 

"Is there anything I can do?" Miyaji asks, still the picture of concern.

Moriyama smiles woozily.

"Kiss it better," he says, pointing to his head wound. 

Miyaji's face flattens.

" _ What. _ " he says blankly, all worry gone. It isn't a question, but Moriyama answers anyway with a goofy grin.

"A kiss from someone beautiful is the only thing that'll make me feel better!" he proclaims dramatically. 

Miyaji's eye twitches. "I'm starting to think you deserved the pineapple," he mutters none too softly. 

Moriyama pouts. "Come on. I'll never bother you ever again if you just kiss it better," he wheedles.

Miyaji raises his eyebrows. "Unlikely we'll run into each other again."

"Not, actually. I saw you're applying for Toei; so am I," Moriyama explains, grinning. Don't give him that look: he's ready to do anything to get his kiss, damn it, even if that includes blackmail. 

Miyaji's eyes roll back in his skull. 

"God, please no," he murmurs before returning his gaze to Moriyama with a frown. "Is it a promise that you'll never bother me again?"

"Yeah," Moriyama agrees, fully intending to break that promise.

Miyaji sighs. "Fine then. One kiss."

He leans in, and Moriyama feels warm all over when soft lips press to his temple. And if Miyaji's lips linger a second longer than they strictly should; hey, Moriyama isn't complaining.

The rest of the day he spends in a blissful haze, the spot that had earlier caused him pain now radiating happiness. One thing he knows for sure: if Miyaji can give even chaste kisses like that, there's no way he's leaving him alone.


	4. (wish that i could say) i love you (hyuuizu)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oww this hurt. otp angst is the ~~worst~~ best

"I'm here." 

It's the first thing he says when Hyūga calls. No questions, no demands for an explanation. Just calm acceptance, a readiness to be his rock. 

Hyūga blinks away tears and cuts the call, lowering his phone to see the worn old Prius stopping in front of him. Its driver - pretty as ever - offers him a smile, and is it just him, or is it slightly strained? 

He ignores it and walks around the car, stepping into the passenger seat and strapping himself in. Beside him, Izuki is quiet, only looking over once to offer him help wordlessly. He smiles wanly, trying not to think about the drying tear tracks on his face, and shakes his head.

Izuki starts to drive. His hands are stable on the wheel, turning it when he has to, keeping his feet ready to gas the pedals anytime. It's the same careful responsibility he'd exhibited as a teen; he's always been like that, playful but serious when he has to be. 

That doesn't stop the puns, though. And indeed, he's saying one now too, tossing Hyūga a wry smile since they're at a traffic light and he can afford to look.

“Care to  _ light  _ up that glum face?”

Air wheezes out of Hyūga’s nose, the resulting sound somewhere between a snort and a huff. “Izuki.  _ Stop. _ ”

“You know I had to.” Izuki puts his hands up in the air, bringing them down to rest on the wheel once more as the signal clears. Silence reigns again; Hyūga makes no attempt to break it, and neither does Izuki.

Now college students, this is the routine they’ve fallen into. By day, both will be proper, studious young men with places on the varsity basketball team - by night, Hyūga goes out and does all manner of things and calls Izuki to pick him up.

Izuki’s steady in all the ways that Hyūga has never been. He’s a storm when pissed, sure, but for the most part he’s calm and mature (apart from the puns), dependable, responsible. Hell, he even finds time to help Hyūga with homework. Izuki is an anchor, the kind of man that will make you tea and really take care of you.

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that Hyūga goes for the wild type, that he prefers people like himself who let loose completely. It isn’t fair to him or Izuki that he can’t get himself together. He’s such a mess and it hurts but at this point he doesn’t care anymore except when he wakes up on a girl’s sofa and wonders at the boy he used to be. 

Izuki loves him like that. Like the way Hyūga loved the gentle curve of Riko’s chest and the sway of Kiyoshi’s hips - a fondness bred from years of familiarity. And he tells him he loves him all the time, too. He has never actually said it, but Hyūga knows. It’s in the way that he makes coffee for him, in the way that he gently guides his hand while doing math, in the way that he laughs when Hyūga joins in on punning (a markedly rare occasion)... in the way that he’s always there. 

Only a man in love will hurt himself like Izuki does over and over. Hyūga’s known Izuki for a very long time, knows that he speaks through actions more than words, and Izuki’s actions tell a very sad story.

Looking at him now, eyes on the road, hair glowing softly with the street lights bouncing off of it, Hyūga wants to love him back. He wants to wake up next to Izuki and wants to make him coffee and be the kind of rock that Izuki is for him. He wants to say those words but they’re stuck in his throat and he can’t get them through; he will never be able to get them through without hollowing them out and drying them to the point that it barely matters.

Wanting and needing are two very different things, and so it is that all Hyūga Junpei can do is wish that he could love his best friend like Izuki loves him. 


	5. capsicum, carrots and beef (spell 'i love you') (muramito)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the sweet sebastian!! hope u enjoy cutie~

Grocery shopping is easy.

Grocery shopping is easy…  _ in theory.  _ Grocery shopping is easy when your boyfriend is not a giant man-child who will start dumping anything and everything into the cart just because he is hungry and wants to get out of there.

Rinnosuke suppresses a mental sigh for the fifteenth time today as Atsushi drops a box of radishes into their trolley. He removes it carefully, just as he had the previous ten times his boyfriend had added something they didn’t need and wouldn't use.   
“But Rin-chin,” Atsushi whines, “isn’t this everything you need?”

Rinnosuke shakes his head, gesturing to the list he carries. It bears a series of tick marks next to each item they’ve already picked up; only a few more to go. Atsushi frowns at it before scowling and turning away. Rinnosuke pinches him gently in the side and smiles meaningfully.

“I am  _ not  _ pouting, Rin-chin,” Atsushi insists defiantly, easily understanding what Rinnosuke is conveying. It’s one of the things he likes best about his boyfriend - Atsushi pretends to be lazy and unintelligent and childish, but he’s extremely perceptive when he wants to be, and if he decides upon something not even the strongest forces in Heaven or Hell can stop him.

He smiles again, this time gentler, and Atsushi visibly softens. Rinnosuke reaches up, tugging on his collar - Atsushi bends down obligingly, and Rinnosuke connects their lips in a quick peck. 

Atsushi’s mouth is sweet, as usual. He’s been eating more candy lately: something about ‘if he goes all out in his basketball games we’ll give him all the sweets he wants’. It makes Atsushi happy, or at least keeps him content enough not to throw a fit. (That would  _ not  _ be received kindly by his college basketball coach, Miracle or not.) It worries Rinnosuke, who practically brushes Atsushi’s teeth for him in fear of his boyfriend contracting cavities. The taste isn’t unpleasant, though. Atsushi has taken to less sugary sweets these days, and this one - minty, fruity and light - is exactly the kind Rinnosuke likes. 

He turns his face towards the aisles, pretending that he needs to pick up something else but really trying to hide his blush. Atsushi isn’t that stupid, though; a large hand taps on Rinnsouke’s shoulder, and the familiar voice says bluntly, “Rin-chin doesn’t need anything from there.”

Rinnosuke looks back up at his boyfriend, willing the blush away from his face to no avail and nodding. He points to the list once more - Atsushi shakes his head and holds up his hands.

In them are the last three items that they need to buy: green capsicum, carrots and beef.

Rinnosuke’s mouth parts slightly in surprise. Atsushi has never, not once, expressed interest in grocery shopping, nor has he been helpful. He chooses simply to follow behind Rinnosuke and complain all the while - the fact that Rinnosuke finds it endearing, sees through the whining to the fact that Atsushi is happy to be with him, is besides the point. So why today?

“Because I love Rin-chin.”

The declaration is flat, delivered like any other mundane dialogue. Yet those four words bring Rinnosuke to a standstill, and his cheeks colour once more like tomatoes. There’s no use in trying to hide it now; anyone who so much as glances over him will see that he’s blushing brighter than a firetruck.

_ Because I love Rin-chin. _

His body moves on its own, stepping forward, bumping the cart away from between himself and Atsushi with his hip. His arms come up to wrap around the much bigger boy’s torso, and he leans his head against the firm chest, ear pressed to a steady heartbeat. Rinnosuke turns even redder at his involuntary display of public affection, but he holds on just a second longer than socially acceptable, wanting to convey properly that he returns the sentiment.

Atsushi drops a kiss on his head and tosses the items into the cart when Rinnosuke finally lets him go. They walk to the billing line together, Rinnosuke’s back pressed against Atsushi’s solid front. He has never felt more secure while billing his groceries.

He has never felt more secure, period.

Rinnosuke holds Atsushi’s free hand all the way to their small car - their other hands are both engaged carrying bags of groceries. He doesn’t object when Atsushi keeps his hand on his shoulder as he drives home. He even goes so far as to wrap his arm around the taller boy’s hips while they travel up in the elevator to their little apartment.

As he is putting away the groceries later that night, Atsushi wordlessly comes to help. Without saying a thing, the two of them methodically arrange their purchases, Rinnosuke guiding Atsushi where required. It’s a comfortable, secure trust that allows Atsushi to reach over Rinnosuke’s head to put away the vegetables, and Rinnosuke to grab the snacks from Atsushi’s hands for safekeeping. 

It’s everything, and more, that Rinnosuke has ever wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a hard time getting into mitobe's head; characterisation is my only strength, so that was a little worrying. i think the lack of dialogue makes him a harder - yet so complex and interesting - character to write. it was really fun to figure out how to write mitobe, and i totally got swallowed into the soft fluff with murasakibara. i might write for this ship again soon!  
> comments make a blob happy!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make a writer happy uwu please do leave me your thoughts if you enjoyed!


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